


Kintsugi

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Johnlock Roulette, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV First Person, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only Sherlock sees John fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kintsugi

People look at John and I, and see only my madness. John is the anchor, they think, the ordinary one. But neither one of us is quite normal; he's simply better at passing than I. They don't see the tight control, the rage in his eyes. They see only the benign smile, the careful politeness. Only I see my soldier fall apart, relinquish that control. I am the only one he trusts like this. Is he a fool to trust me, of all people? Some would say so. I’d like to hope not. But hope is not an easily measured substance and I work best in known quantities and facts

The case is solved, of course. Lestrade finishes the last of his notes and I turn to summon a cab. John gives the banalities that pass for politeness and hurries after me. I am silent in the cab, but I can feel him buzzing with excitement, exclaiming over the case. Adrenaline lingers in his bloodstream. The nearness of his hand to mine signals interest and I know what we will do once we're behind closed doors. I would kiss him here and now, but the last time I attempted that in a cab I was nearly punched and received quite a tongue lashing. So I must content myself with the heat from his hand, so close to mine.

We finally reach the familiar door. John pays and I lead the way upstairs. We shed our coats and pretenses of civility as I crowd him against the wall, leaning in to steal greedy kisses, his hands slipping buttons through my shirt, exposing my skin.

I grab the hem of his jumper and pull up, only leaving him enough room to pull the fabric free before pressing him against the wall again, hands on his broad shoulders, thumb on his scar as if I would hold it in place. Both his hands are tangled in my hair, gulping my kisses, feet spread so I can grind my erection against his. There’s still too much cloth below our waists. 

"Bedroom," I growl. He follows me as I pull back, only reluctantly releasing my hair. I keep an arm around his waist, tongue in his mouth as I lead us down the familiar hall. This is a dance I know the steps of very well, after so many days and nights of almost-was, we'd come together in an exothermic reaction, like sodium and water. 

John steps away as we cross into the bedroom, toeing off shoes and socks, stripping off trousers and pants. Watching me, he climbs into bed and sits against the headboard. His eyes are dilated with lust, but his hands are completely steady. Even after weeks of this, there is still an undercurrent of fear in him. He does not surrender easily and I wouldn't have him any other way. His hands drift to his large cock as I finish undressing myself. 

Prowling, I move up the bed. His breath comes shorter as he stares at me, hypnotized. I grab his ankles and yank him down, hearing him bite back a cry. I loom over him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head with one hand. Panic and desire war in his eyes. He does not like being trapped. But he knows the word that would cause me to release him at once and keeps his silence. 

For a moment we simply stare at each other. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips and I drop my head to capture him in another kiss. A ragged moan breaks from him and he bucks up against me, seeking friction. I am not in the mood to be patient, so I grab the lube, slick my fingers and slide them down to his entrance. He breaks the kiss and turns his head to the side, crying out as I breach him.

Taking advantage of the position, I plant a kiss just behind his ear before nibbling the lobe, knowing how much that makes him writhe. He pushes down on my fingers, wrists flexing underneath my hand, eyes screwed tightly shut. I keep this sight locked in my mind palace, in a special place with all the other visions of John like this. _My_ John, spread open underneath me, begging for my cock. The first time I took him, in the early hours of the morning, after a nightmare. John riding me, bracing himself on my chest. Each glimpse of _this_ John carefully cataloged and saved.

I add another finger and he gasps. “Look at me,” I order. I want to see it, the moment he gives up control. He fights with himself and against my hands, above and below him, but finally he turns his face back towards me and opens his eyes.

The steel blue eyes are nearly black. He bites his lip, still struggling. I fuck him harder with my fingers, stretching him, ignoring his cock, thick and leaking pre-come. “Sherlock,” he whispers and then I see him take a deep breath. His shoulders go back and he lets go. No need for pretense or control. With me, like this, he can simply be. 

Pulling my fingers back, I slick myself. He spreads his legs wider for me, his strong thighs a few shades more tan than the white sheets. The hair around his cock is blond as well, more yellow than the hair on his head these days. As a reward, I lean down and breathe in his scent as I lick a stripe up his cock. He moans softly, watching, patient, relaxing more into the bed as he waits for me.

I move up, pushing my cock into him. His eyes drift shut again as he adjusts, little cries falling from his lips like prayers to a God. I like to believe they are only for me. Supplications for me to continue what I am doing, trust that I will bring his pleasure as well as my own.

Once I’m fully seated I lean in for another kiss. He parts his lips for me, welcoming me. I take my pleasure slowly, feeling the friction of his cock against my stomach. We are touching, from my hands on his wrists, along his arm, my chest against his, me settled against his hips, thrusting shallowly, to his ankles locked around my lower back. He barely meets my thrusts, content to let me do as I will. I release his wrists and cup his face with both hands, deepening the kiss as I begin to move faster. His body is so warm, sweat trickling between us. With John in my bed, I am never cold. He keeps his wrists where I left them, panting into my mouth, sharing my air. Our bodies entwined, we become something more than ourselves. Kintsugi. The art of broken pieces. Poetry, perhaps, but nonetheless true.

Wrapping my arms around his shoulders I pull him closer, thrust harder. Only then do his arms come up, wrapping around my neck, simply holding. Whimpers wash over me, and I can feel how close he is to toppling over the edge. With another kiss I pull back, wrapping a hand around his cock. He comes with a quiet moan, even here rarely loud, squeezing around me. Beautiful. I lean down to lick the sweat from his clavicle, my cock buried in him, stilled.

Finally, he opens his eyes again and his hands tangle in my hair. I fold him over farther, so his knees are nearly around his ears, grabbing his hips, thrusting hard, chasing my own release. My eyes fall shut, but I can feel him watching me. I come with barely a sound. He’s used to that by now; I barely make noise at all when we have intercourse. Sometimes in the early morning over a mug of tea he jokes that it’s the one way he can get me to shut up. I wonder if he realizes how much data I’m absorbing, how much I am saving and savoring.

When my heartbeat slows again I open my eyes and let him back down. He groans a bit, more so when I pull out. I kiss his thigh and go to the bathroom for a washrag to clean us up. He’ll complain if he wakes up sticky as well as sore. Contented, his eyes have closed again, his breathing steady, one hand thrown above his head, though he is not yet asleep.

I pause and memorize this as well before stealing a kiss, pulling on my pants and crawling into bed next to him. He smiles softly as I bury my nose in his hair, breathing him in. The hand above his head moves so he can ruffle my hair a moment before rolling onto his side. He kisses me once more, the hand slipping down to my shoulder. I watch him fall asleep and only then do I close my eyes to find my own rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to beltainefaire and everythingelsegoesherethen. You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
